


love the light that I've found

by penguinsledding



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Car Sex, Comfort No Hurt, Comfort Reading, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s03e25 Cup IV - Center Ice, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinsledding/pseuds/penguinsledding
Summary: After the Cup game, Jack and Bitty look for a little normalcy.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 6
Kudos: 248





	love the light that I've found

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves, which undoubtedly features on the Zimbits makeout playlist.

They‘re halfway home from the grocery store when Jack pulls off the highway. Bitty’s in the front seat, the butter’s in the back, and the fucking Stanley Cup is still in his apartment. Jack’s completely sober, but he can’t feel his feet.

“What’s this way home?” Bittle says, peering out the truck’s dark windows at the shuttered suburb. He’s still wearing his Falconers hoodie. Jack reaches over to palm his thigh, his eyes on the road. He stops on a dark block, and Bitty turns towards him. “What are you up to, Mr. Zimmermann?”

Jack just leans forward, tugging off his seat belt, and kisses him. It’s not the best kiss of his life, not _center ice after winning the Stanley Cup_ , but it’s close. Bittle unbuckles. He has the sweetest nose, and Jack didn’t think sweet was a word that he would ever use, not willingly, but Bitty calls him _sweetpea_. Jack clamors closer to him. Bitty’s hand curls against Jack’s cheek, and Jack leans forward, chest straining over the truck’s center console. Bittle’s hand slides back to tug at his hair.

“Oh honey,” he says, holding Jack just beyond reach of his lips, his capable fingers pressing against Jack’s skull. “They’re expecting us.”

“So?” Jack has never been this happy. It’s kind of horrible. There’s been cameras and screaming, and everyone’s been touching him, even strangers, and Jack feels rigid and poised, like that little action figure he gave to Bitty. There’s this feeling he’s never managed to get rid of, like his life is way too good for him, like it could end at any moment. It’s too much. All of it except Bitty, with his _kiss me_ and his _why not_ and _you want to._ They could live in this car together for the rest of their lives. Bits would find a way to make pie. 

Bitty lets Jack kiss him again, and then he kisses Jack, hard, scratching at his scalp. Jack reaches for his hips.

“Jack,” Bittle says, and Jack’s thumbs slide under that fucking Zimmermann hoodie. He slips his hand up his back, over the soft knobs of his spine. “Someone could—”

“They’re not,” Jack says. He doesn’t care if they’re caught. He can’t imagine anything he’d be less ashamed of than kissing Bitty right now. Bitty has blown pupils and tear streaks on his freckled cheeks, and Jack loves him. “I love you,” he says, and Bits’ mouth twitches up.

“Why did we have to invite everyone over, anyway?”

Jack shakes his head. He likes when Bitty says _we_. He ducks down, his lips grazing his neck.

“Next cup, we turn in early,” Bittle says. Jack sucks at the skin of his collarbone, nodding, and Bittle’s mouth goes slack. His breath feels so good against Jack’s ear. Jack would give anything just for that warmth on his skin. He would do anything for him.

“I just wanna—” Jack’s voice breaks off, and he reaches for Bitty’s waistband. “Put your seat back.”

Bittle presses the button, his free hand opening his zipper while the seat slides back. Jack remembers Madison, in the back of Bittle’s pick-up truck. Moving’s harder now, in the cab of Jack's. He sits up so his knees are on his seat, then leans over so his stomach stretches over the center console. He rests a hand on the passenger door to stabilize himself, practically crawling, his mouth hovering over Bittle’s lap. Bitty pulls his cock out. He pushes it against Jack’s lips, and Jack feels himself fill up, feels the low buzzing on his skin die down, that panicked feeling of _life can’t be this good_ falling away. Bits thrusts up, and Jack keeps his jaw slack, his tongue cupped around his dick. He can’t see Bitty’s eyes in the dark of the front seat. Still, he can feel his hand, warm in his hair. He can smell him. Jack feels surrounded, hollowed out, his insides and his outsides reversed. The whole world is warm and dark. His cheeks tighten around Bitty’s cock. He wants him to cum. He reaches up to stroke the soft skin between Bitty’s balls and his ass. He presses harder.

“So good, Jack,” Bits says, and Jack’s hips thrust uselessly. His back aches where he bends towards Bitty, but he curls closer. “You’re so good, you did it, you—“

Jack’s not one to do things halfway. When he lifts his mouth, Bitty is draped against the car seat, looking wrung out and pleased.

“Thank you,” Jack says. Bits scoffs. He’s still smiling.

“Thank _you_ , sweetheart.” He extends a hand towards Jack, squeezing at his arm. “Gimme one second.”

“I’m good,” Jack says. He’s ridiculously hard, but he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets Bittle touch him right now. He’s already way past overstimulated. He has to breathe. Carefully, he clicks his door open. “Do you think you could drive us back to the party?”

“Sure,” Bittle says. He doesn’t get out of the car like Jack does, just climbs over the front seat, wriggling into place behind the steering wheel. Jack doesn’t move. He stands in the open doorway, watching Bittle slide the seat forward. Bittle looks up at him, and Jack still doesn’t understand how a smile can be so sweet and so fucking filthy.

“We can skip it if you want to,” Bitty says. He turns sideways, out the open door, and wraps a foot around Jack’s shin. His hand slides up his arm to his shoulder. “Leave them wanting more.”

Jack shakes his head. He wants to be there. Wants to be with his team, in his living room, where Shitty is probably draped shirtless across Lardo’s lap. And Ransom and Holster are screaming, unless Tater’s there, in which case Ransom will be dead silent. Tater will not notice. Guy’s probably back from the grocery store already and pretending not to know where Jack is. Jack wants to be there, now. Bittle makes him feel like he can be.

“So let’s head back,” Bitty says. “And I’ll get started on those pies.”

“Okay,” Jack says, walking over to the passenger’s seat. “Do you think the butter’s melted?”

“I’ll just use what’s in the fridge,” Bits says. He buckles again, then laughs at Jack’s expression. “I always have enough butter, honey. I just thought we could use a little normalcy.”

Jack laughs too, and then he kisses him. He can’t help it.


End file.
